


Just Before Dawn

by ReidFan



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: #3 in the series for s12e22 Red Light, Episode Tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 05:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11074569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReidFan/pseuds/ReidFan
Summary: Episode Tag #3 in a series of episode tags for S12E22 Red Light.Spencer Reid is out of prison and must undergo psychological evaluation before going back to the BAU.





	Just Before Dawn

Just Before Dawn

 

Red Light Tag #3

 

CM   K+ (Reid)

©mccabebabe@hotmail.com (Reidfan)

 

Thank you to my anonymous friend for the help and insight into PTSD. Any mistakes made herein are mine. Thank you to Droogie for all help medical (and there was lots of it). And, as usual, to Aut for beta, above and beyond….

 

 

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“ _It is always darkest just before the Day dawneth_ ”—Thomas Fuller

 

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         Diana Reid sat at the table by the window, nursing her morning coffee and waiting for the sun to come up. She had a crossword puzzle on the table in front of her and was currently deep in thought trying to fill in fourteen across. Her caregiver, Grace O’Halloran, was in the kitchen making toast. It was just after six a.m. now and Grace had been awakened by the sounds of gasping and a thumping sound from Spencer’s room several hours earlier.

 

         She’d rushed over to see if he was all right. It was becoming a regular occurrence at night, she’d determined. This was the second time this night, and it had happened at least twice in each of the previous nights since they’d been at the safe house. He was experiencing one of several recurring nightmares, in this one he relived—over and over—the prison murder of his friend Luis Delgado. As she opened his door, he was sitting up in his bed, panting hard and bathed in sweat.

 

         “Spencer?” she ventured in a whisper.

 

         “Sorry if I woke you,” he responded.

 

         She ignored that and took a tentative step into his room. “Are you okay?” she began, rolling her eyes at herself and thinking inwardly, _of course he isn’t, you ninny._ Stepping closer, she retrieved the face cloth she’d left on his night table earlier and held it out to him. _Not going to make that mistake again,_ she thought. She’d touched it to his face the first night he’d had this nightmare and he’d completely lost it at the time; screaming no and flinching away from her and causing such a stir that the Security detail had come running.

 

         It was only later, when he’d awakened fully and calmed down that he’d explained to her about inmates Frazier and Duerson gagging him with a white terrycloth towel before beating him. At the time, he’d feared they were going to kill him.

 

         He took the facecloth from her and wiped his face down with it, murmuring a thank you from beneath the terrycloth.

 

         “Spencer, I know I’m here to look after your mother, not you, but I can’t help but be concerned.”

 

         He gave her a tiny smile and acknowledged, “I know, and I appreciate that. Thank you. I’m okay.” He released a deep sigh and made eye contact with her again, “Guess I’ll have to write about this in the journal too.” He moved to set the facecloth back down on the table and Grace reached out to take it from him.

 

         Grace nodded, “You really should try to get back to sleep if you can, Spencer. Your appointment with Dr. Flanagan is at nine-thirty.” Indicating the facecloth, she added “I’m just gonna rinse this out in fresh cold water for you and put it back on that plate afterwards, okay?”

 

         He nodded as he slid back under the covers and closed his eyes. After rinsing the cloth, she returned to his room, replaced it on its dish and quietly left the room, shutting the door behind her.

 

         Thankfully, she noted, Diana had slept through this latest episode and Grace returned to her own bed to go back to sleep herself for a few hours.

 

         Diana looked up from her crossword puzzle as Grace entered the room with a tray bearing Diana’s toast and the coffeepot, as well as a mug for herself. Diana’s morning medications were in a little cup next to the toast.

 

         “I put your favourite apricot jam on it, Diana,” Grace told her as she set the plate down before the older woman. The caregiver sat down across from her patient and poured her own coffee.

 

         “It looks wonderful,” Diana enthused as she picked up a piece of the toast and took a bite. She sipped her coffee and looked at Grace who indicated the medications with a gesture of one hand. Nodding, Diana obediently picked up the little cup, tipped the pills into her mouth and washed them down with more of the coffee.

 

         “You’re up early this morning,” Grace pointed out.

 

         “It’s Monday. I like the Monday crossword puzzle,” Diana told her. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes while Diana worked on her puzzle. “Nine letter word for children,” Diana mused aloud.

 

         “Daughters?” Grace ventured.

 

         Diana shook her head. “No, last letter has to be g, cause I’m pretty sure I have seventeen down correct. Answering. For ‘blank the call’.”

 

         Grace’s brow furrowed as she tried to think of the word, and after a long moment she said, “I can’t think of it. Perhaps Spencer will help us when he gets up.”

 

         Diana nodded. “It’s dark out. And I’m sitting here waiting for the son to come up.”

 

         “The sun should be up soon,” Grace assured her.

 

         “He’s usually up before I am,” Diana pointed out. Grace laughed, causing Diana to ask, “What’s so funny?”

 

         “I thought you meant sun, s-u-n,” Grace laughed. Diana let out a low chuckle.

 

         “Well, my s-o-n is my s-u-n I must admit.”

 

         Diana was just finishing her toast when she and Grace heard the sound of the shower running in the bathroom.

 

         “Sounds like Spencer is up,” Grace noted, “You’ll have your nine letter word for children soon.” She stood up and headed into the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee.

 

         Although it had only been a few days, Grace and Diana had already established a routine. Every morning when the Security detail changed shift, the agents would all assemble in the front hallway to let Grace, Spencer and Diana know about the day’s replacements. Grace would offer coffee to all the security as they held their debriefing and after the detail exited, Spencer would have breakfast with his mother while Grace had some time to have her shower. This morning Diana had awakened earlier than usual and wanted breakfast and Grace, not wanting Spencer disturbed after his unsettled night, made the morning toast and coffee for Diana.

 

         After breakfast, Diana liked to go for the daily morning walk in the park Grace had suggested. A Security detail always accompanied them, following discreetly but on high alert. The first few mornings, they brought home wildflowers and yesterday, Diana had been enthralled by a mother squirrel and her two babies and had spent almost an hour watching the little family as they skittered around amongst the oak trees.

 

         When they’d returned home from the park, Grace would ensure that Diana had some juice or water and they would do something intellectually stimulating for a couple of hours. Today, Diana seemed determined to work on her crossword puzzle and dismissed their daily walk altogether. This change suited their schedule; Grace noted happily, as Spencer had his first appointment with the psychologist.

 

Earlier in the week, the two women had shared a lively discussion about Renaissance art and after the squirrel family visit the previous day Diana had come back to the house wanting to read all about squirrels. Grace had opened up Spencer’s laptop computer and helped Diana search squirrel information on the Internet.

 

         Every day around noon, Grace would give Diana lunch and then the older woman would retire to her room to rest for a couple of hours. Spencer had insisted that Grace take those few afternoon hours daily to do whatever she liked and take one of the Security agents with her if she left the house.

 

         “Would you like some more coffee, Diana?” Grace asked, coffeepot at the ready. Diana nodded and Grace refilled both their mugs. She covered one of Diana’s hands with her own, and asked gently, “Are you up for having lunch out somewhere today, Diana?”

 

         She watched carefully for signs of apprehension or anxiety and was relieved to see none. Diana seemed amenable to the idea and Grace explained, “Spencer has to go to the doctor this morning, and I thought you and I could go for a walk then. And after his appointment, we could all go out for lunch. Would you like that?”

 

         Diana nodded. “Can we get some peanuts?”

 

         “I—I suppose so. You want peanuts for lunch?” Grace asked.

 

         “Oh, not for me. For the squirrels,” Diana explained. “I was just thinking about the squirrels.”

 

         “Oh, okay,” she chuckled. “I was thinking we’d go to a different park today, but that’s all right. I hope we see the little squirrel family again.”

 

         “I love watching the mother squirrel and her—“ Diana’s voice grew excited, “Offspring!” she finished and quickly smoothed out her newspaper to fill in the missing word in her crossword puzzle.

 

         “Offspring,” Grace agreed, “Of course! Why couldn’t we think of that one?”

 

         “Think of what one?” Spencer asked as he came into the kitchen, dressed in a crisp dark suit. He was adjusting his tie and gave the coffeepot a hopeful look as he wandered past the countertop and dropped an arm around his mother’s shoulders, “Good morning, Mom, Grace.”

 

         “We were trying to find an nine letter word for children,” Diana started.

 

         “Offspring,” Spencer replied immediately as Grace and Diana laughed.

 

         “Where were you ten minutes ago?” Diana teased.

 

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         The Security agent pulled their SUV into the parking lot of the medical arts building and dropped Spencer off by the lobby entrance. His appointment was scheduled for nine-thirty a.m. and would run until about eleven, according to the new patient intake paperwork he’d sifted through earlier. As requested by his new psychologist, Dr. Saoirse Flanagan, Reid had brought along the journal he’d kept while in prison and was still writing since his release. Even before he’d been set up with Dr. Flanagan, Grace had suggested to him to continue the journal; that it would help him come to terms with his thoughts and feelings post incarceration.

 

         He gave his mother a quick hug goodbye, wished them both a pleasant morning together and hurried towards the building entrance.

 

         “Where’s Spencer going?” Diana asked as he went through the door and disappeared from view.

 

         “He’s seeing my friend Dr. Flanagan, remember?”

 

         “Oh,” Diana replied, “Are we going to the squirrels now?”

 

         “Robert?” Grace addressed the Security agent.

 

         “The park by the house, right?” he asked, checking his rear view mirror for a response. Grace saw that he was looking in the mirror and nodded. As he pulled out onto the road, she remembered Diana’s earlier request.

 

         “Oh! We need to stop at a grocery store for peanuts first!”

 

         “Roger that,” he laughed as they made their way through traffic.

 

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         “Dr. Saoirse Flanagan,” she introduced herself and extended a hand. Reid shook it as he introduced himself, “Spencer Reid.”

 

         After inviting him to take a seat, and pouring him a glass of water from a decanter on her desk, Dr. Flanagan walked around behind her desk and picked up a file folder. She made eye contact with her new patient as she sat down.

 

         “You’ve been through a lengthy ordeal.”

 

         “Yes, ma’am.”

 

         “Your supervisor—Emily Prentiss?”

 

Reid nodded.

 

She sorted through his file for the intake papers and after finding them, raised an eyebrow and asked, “Emily Prentiss is your supervisor _and_ also your Medical Power of Attorney?”

 

He nodded again.  


“All right, then.” Dr. Flanagan made a note on the chart and then set it aside and met Reid’s eyes.

 

“She said you’ve been through a lot of things in your twelve years on the unit, but nothing like this.”

 

         He nodded.

 

         “She wants you back there, but not until you’re ready. And that’s why you’re here, Spencer. You and I are going to talk about the last few months, and we’ll determine when and if you’re ready to go back to work.”

 

         She rose from behind her desk and moved around it towards the couch she had set up along one wall.

 

         “Spencer?”

 

         He looked from the couch to her eyes and told her, “If you don’t mind, I’d rather be sitting.”

 

         She stepped forward and took the chair beside him rather than going back around behind her desk.

 

         “Well, that’s a good start,” she smiled. After sitting, she took his journal from the desktop and opened it.

 

         “We’re going to begin by reading your journal together.”

 

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         “I spoke to Grace this morning, Rossi. Reid had his first appointment with the psychologist today.”

 

         Rossi sipped his coffee as he stood before Emily’s desk. He acknowledged her with a tilt of his head, swallowed the mouthful of coffee and asked, “Any idea how long he’s gonna be sidelined?”

 

         “I’ve already put him back on the payroll. The suspension is lifted. He can’t actually go back out in the field with us until he’s been assessed by this Doctor Flanagan but he’s back on staff.”

 

         “Assessed for what? The Kid—ugh” Rossi interrupted himself, remembering his agreement with Morgan about calling Reid ‘Kid’ and correcting himself, continued, “Spencer’s strong. He’s tough, Emily.”

 

         “Oh I agree with you on that Dave. But they want him assessed for possible PTSD. They need to make sure he’s emotionally and psychologically ready to be back among the dead and dismembered bodies.”

 

         Rossi paced around her office and stopped by the window. He looked out over the bullpen, at Reid’s unoccupied desk for a long moment then looked back at Prentiss.

 

         “How long?”

 

         “I guess that depends on the diagnosis. Whether it’s acute or chronic PTSD. Or maybe, _hopefully_ , not PTSD at all.”

 

         “Well he handled Cat Adams just fine, didn’t he, Emily? Barely out of prison himself, and he held his own. Outsmarted her. Again.”

 

         “That was an enormous first step whether he realised it or not. Going back to the site of the trauma,” Prentiss told him, “As his MPOA, I’m getting updates from his doctor, with his permission. Dr. Flanagan has booked Reid in for a dozen sessions.”

 

         “Three months?” Rossi raised an eyebrow in surprise.

 

         “Oh hell no, Dr. Flanagan’s seeing him three times a week, Dave.” She tapped a couple of books sitting on her desk and continued, “I’ve been reading a bit about PTSD. One of the first things mentioned is that it’s normal and natural to feel afraid after a shocking or otherwise traumatic experience. Most people recover naturally from these but others may exhibit symptoms that could lead to a diagnosis of PTSD. And it could take three months or longer to manifest itself.”

 

“We know Reid has a strong constitution. You have to be able to do this job in the first place,” Rossi pointed out.

 

“And he’s already taken a couple of steps, before he even saw Dr. Flanagan. Just being able to go back to prison like he did, to see Cat Adams. And he talked to JJ about his fear that he was becoming like, what were those guys’ names?” Emily paused for a moment until the names occurred to her, “Frazier. And Duerson. Guilt, shame, fear about the event, those are all possible symptoms.”

 

Rossi made a face. “He’s _not_ like them. This whole thing may have made him more assertive, stronger than he was before. But fundamentally, he’s still a good person.”

 

Emily stood up, “You’re right. I mean, even in his darkest moment, when those men were released from the infirmary and he knew they might be coming after him, he managed to find a way to isolate and protect himself without hurting anyone else.” She took a sip of her own coffee and eyed Rossi. “JJ thinks he’s come to terms with that, Dave. He shouldn’t feel shame or guilt over any of it.”

 

“It wasn’t his fault,” Rossi agreed. “Any one of us would have done the same.”

 

Prentiss nodded and sighed. “Anyway, even though he’s not cleared to be back in the field with us yet, I have invited him to come into the office twice a week for now, and work on things from here.”  


“Ease him back to work?”

 

“Kinda. More like making him feel included somewhat. Give him a chance to use that ole brain of his. You know, for something more than fifteen across, seven letter word for genius.”

 

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“I just have to ask a few more questions, Spencer.”

 

He nodded, waiting.

 

“The nightmares you’re having. Is it the same one?”

 

He pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, there are a few of them that I keep having. My own beating. And my altercation with Shaw,” he swallowed and blinked hard, “and Luis getting killed.”

 

Dr. Flanagan scribbled notes as he spoke and asked, “Does one happen more frequently than the others? Or is one more vivid than the others?”

 

“I usually have them, back to back, together. And I’ve been beaten before. Really, it’s not the beating that’s so bad. Stabbing myself was a little harder. But it was more the fear that they were actually going to kill me, Doctor. Even so, seeing Luis get killed over and over again is by far the worst one.”

 

Dr. Flanagan put down her pencil and eyed him. He bit his lip, as though he was trying to fight back tears as well. His voice came out in a low whisper.

 

“Duerson held me back and Frazier slit Luis’ throat. And I couldn’t do anything to help him. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t—“

 

“It’s okay, Spencer. It wasn’t your fault.”

 

Reid swallowed and blinked away tears.

 

“I tried. I tried stemming the blood with a towel and I called for help but,” he closed his eyes against the awful memory and continued, “It was too late. They couldn’t save him. We couldn’t save him.”

 

He reached for the water glass, drank a little and then took several deep breaths. He closed his eyes, inhaled slowly, held it for a moment, then released the breath as slowly and after three or four repetitions, calmed himself.

 

Dr. Flanagan wrote out a few more notes as she watched her patient. He opened his eyes and met her gaze.

 

“I think that’s enough for today, Spencer.”

 

His eyebrows rose in surprise.

 

“I think we actually made quite a bit of progress today.” She smiled at him reassuringly, “You’re handling this quite well, Spencer. Have you been reading about PTSD?”

 

He nodded, “I read quite a bit about it a couple of years ago. One of my friends was going through it.” He licked his lip and added “Never thought I’d be needing to revisit it for my own purposes.”

 

 

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At the park, under the watchful eyes of both Grace and the security agent Robert, Diana had spent over an hour convincing Mother Squirrel that the peanuts she’d brought were safe for her little ones to take and Diana was delighted by the family’s antics.

 

Finally, Robert reminded them it was almost 11 a.m. and they needed to pick up Spencer from the doctor’s office. Afterwards, they went to a cozy downtown restaurant for lunch and then returned to the safe house. Diana was exhausted and wanted to go straight to bed, forgoing her usual cup of tea.

 

Grace sat at the kitchen table with her own tea while she filled out her daily report. She looked up from her paperwork when she heard Spencer come into the kitchen.

 

“Did you want some tea or coffee?” she asked him.

 

“No, thank you,” he replied, taking a glass from a cupboard and pouring himself some water. “Mom’s in bed?”

 

“Yeah, the squirrels wore her out,” she chuckled. She finished writing, rose and closed the file folder. “If it’s all right with you, I need to go out and get a few things,” she began as she finished her tea.

 

“Absolutely, Grace. I have a couple of calls I need to make; I’ll stay here with Mom. Enjoy your afternoon,” he smiled in return as she grabbed her purse and thanked him. Robert reappeared from the back of the house and the two of them left together.

 

Reid checked on his mother and then settled into an armchair in the living room and pulled out his iPhone.

 

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“Thank you for the update, Dr. Flanagan,” Emily said, “I look forward to hearing from you again.”

 

She hung up the landline and heard the ring of her cellphone. Pulling it out of her pocket, she smiled at the familiar number, swiped it on and put it to her ear.

 

“Spencer Reid. How are you?”

 

“Hey Emily, I’m okay. How’s everything there?”

 

“Well, Spencer, why don’t you come in and see for yourself?”

 

“Emily?” His eyebrows rose in surprise.

 

“Your suspension’s been lifted, Spencer. I realise that you’re going to be busy seeing that psychologist for the next couple of weeks, but feel free to come in on the days you don’t have appointments and spend some time with us.”

 

“I, thanks Emily, I’ll, um, maybe I’ll do that.”

 

There was an unexpected silence for a long moment and Prentiss realised he’d called her and was now quiet.

 

“So, Reid, it’s nice to hear from you, what’s up?”

 

“I was at the psychologist’s today.”

 

“Um, how did it go, Spencer?”

 

“It went very well, Emily. She—it’s Dr. Saoirse Flanagan—and I talked about post traumatic stress disorder.”

 

“She thinks you’re suffering from that?” Emily led.

 

“No. It’s actually too soon to make that kind of a diagnosis, Em. But I’ve read extensively about it and, well, she’s an expert, and so far, I don’t believe I exhibit enough of the symptoms to actually be considered a PTSD sufferer.”

 

“What can you tell me about it? About your symptoms?” she asked.

 

“Well, the biggest one, the one that I am actually having, is re-experiencing.” He explained, “My nightmares.”

 

He heard her sympathetic ‘oh’ and continued, “But Dr. Flanagan noted that I’m not having any avoidance symptoms. I have one reactivity symptom, meaning I have some difficulty sleeping, but it’s more the interruption of sleep the nightmares cause rather than having trouble falling asleep in the first place. And while the nightmares are disturbing, I _am_ able to go back to sleep afterwards.”

 

“Well that’s good, right?”

 

“I think so. We didn’t get into cognition and mood symptoms today, but I’m going back on Wednesday.”

 

“Spencer, it sounds like you’ve got a pretty good handle on this,” Prentiss said encouragingly.

 

“Thanks, Emily. I’m feeling pretty good, actually.”

 

“I’m so happy to hear that, Spencer. Listen, can you do me a favour?”

 

“Sure, Boss. What is it?”

 

“Can you please call JJ? I know I’m the one who’s authorised to be getting the updates on your progress, but I think she really needs to hear from you herself. She worries. You know.”

 

She was elated to hear the small laugh Reid let out. “Okay, I will call her.”

 

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         He sat at the kitchen table for several minutes, debating silently whether to invite her over or just call. Finally, he tapped his iPhone on and swiped through to the number, hit the call button and waited.

 

         “Spence!”

 

         A wide smile spread across his face as he heard the happy reaction of his best friend.

 

         “Hi JJ. How are the boys?”

 

         “They’re great, Spence. How are _you?”_

 

         “Good. I’m good. I was at the psychologist’s this morning and I just wanted to let you know it went really well. And,” he paused.

 

         “What? What is it, Spence?”

 

         “Well, Dr. Flanagan and I talked about PTSD. And I know that, out of everyone on the team, well, you would know more about it than anyone.”

 

         Her brow furrowed as she momentarily recalled her own experience but she took a deep breath, put it behind her and resolved to be supportive. “I do, Spence.”

 

         “Then you know about the four signs.”

 

         She nodded, realised he wouldn’t see a nod and murmured, “Yeah, I do. Re-experiencing, avoidance, reactivity and cognition and mood.”

 

         “Yeah. Well, I’m definitely re-experiencing. You know, the nightmares.”

 

         “Uh huh. But you’re not avoiding, Spence. You went right back into a prison to confront Cat Adams.”

 

         “Right. I don’t think I’m having any arousal or reactivity symptoms either, JJ. I mean, I have difficulty sleeping, but it’s only because the nightmares keep waking me up.”

 

         “You’re not tense or on edge. Or easily startled.” It was a statement rather than a question and Spencer appreciated that.

 

         “No, I’m not. Not any more so than is normal for me.”

 

         “Spence, I have to ask, you don’t have any kind of desire to go back to,” she paused awkwardly, not even wanting to bring the subject up.

 

         “Dilaudid? No, JJ. No way.”

 

         He could _hear_ her smile at that and that made him smile.

        

         “Emily told us you might be coming back into the office a couple times a week.”

 

         “Yeah, I’d like that.”

 

         “See, that’s good too. Getting back into the things you did before.”

 

         He acknowledged that and said, “I’m trying.”

 

         “It’s a process, Spence. You’ve been through the worst. The absolute worst.”

 

         “It was,” he agreed, “The darkest moment of my life. Being drugged and framed was bad enough. Being arrested, getting beat up, watching Luis get killed.” He paused for a moment, in silent remembrance of Luis, and then carried on, “Having those dark thoughts, that I was becoming one of them myself.”

 

         “Spence. Don’t,” she started.

 

         “It’s okay, JJ. The worst, the absolute worst was knowing that even after everything I’d already been through, after they recovered things could get _worse_.”

 

         “Spence,” her heart went out to him, even if only vicariously over the phone.

 

         “In the space of a couple of hours, JJ, it went from worst to best. Honestly. When that guard Wilkins brought me to that room and took the cuffs off me, part of me was thinking, ‘ _this is it. Shaw’s gonna have me killed.’”_

 

         She inhaled sharply. “Spence!” she breathed, “Oh my God.”

 

         “And then the door opened, and _you_ were there. To take me home,” his voice caught as he spoke and JJ was crying. There was a long silence as both composed themselves and then Spencer found his voice.

 

         “What’s that old proverb?” he said, “It’s always darkest just before the day dawns.”

 

 

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